If Music be the Food of Love, Play On
by gluon
Summary: Early in her junior year, Rachel asks Will to help her work on some non-glee songs.  He agrees, because or despite of what might possibly happen.  He vows to be very careful, but this is Rachel Berry he's dealing with.
1. Vocal Harmonies

Author's notes: The Rachel Berry in my Rachel-Will stories is not the same person as depicted in _Glee_ (at least as of 1/1/11). She's not a virgin, having had a long sexual affair with Finn and/or sex at summer theater camps (referred to in one story as a "cesspool of sexual depravity" but probably no worse than many Baptist church camps). As a result, she's confident, self-possessed, not in the least insecure, and well aware of her talent, looks, and brains. She has a higher IQ and more talent than Will, and is his psychological equal. She is always the aggressor, and he is the more vulnerable in the relationship.

To see an affair between a high school girl and a teacher depicted realistically and seriously in a movie, watch not _Election_, but _The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, _featuring one of the greatest characterizations in cinematic history by the wonderful Maggie Smith, who won an Oscar for the eponymous role.

…

On an autumn Monday in her junior year, Rachel Berry came into the choir room after school and found Mr. Schue studying some scores. "Hello, Mr. Schuester," she said. He looked up and smiled, but his mind was racing.

_"Mr. Schuester?" She always calls me "Mr. Schue." She always says "Hi," never "hello." Something's up. Rachel chooses every word she speaks very carefully. This means something. But what? Is the crush back? Is it irony? What's "irony?" Is she testing me? Why? How? I have to be very careful here. On my guard._

"Hi, Rachel. Why the formality?"

"I've decided that calling you by a shortened version of your family name is overly familiar and doesn't accord you the respect you deserve."

_I knew it! Something **is** up. She's lying through her teeth. And she's wearing tight jeans. Where's the short skirt? Where's the schoolgirl? Don't play the adult with me, missy! I'm on to you._

"I'm used to 'Mr. Schue.' It's what I've been called for years. But I'm not going to make an issue of it, especially not with you."

"Why _especially_ not with me?"

"We've worked closely together for a year. You're almost co-director of glee. You're my star. I know I can always count on you. But what's in a name? Call me whatever makes you feel most comfortable."

_But not "Will." Please don't call me "Will." And all those things I just said about her, it's true, all of it. But just because it's true doesn't mean I should say it. She's oddly beautiful. She's sexy. Am I going to say that too? No! Be very careful here._

"Okay, Mr. Schuester. One of the reasons I've chosen to address you more formally today is because I've come to ask you to be my…"

_Boyfriend? Lover? Fiancé? Husband? What? What?_

"vocal and interpretive coach. I'd like to begin by getting your help with _Funny Girl_. I heard my mom sing it and I thought I'd give it a try."

_So that's it. She thinks I may have made out with Shelby. She's setting up some elaborate trap to get proof to justify vengeance. It's 'Hamlet' and I've killed her father. It's 'The Graduate' and I've had Mrs. Robinson and now her daughter wants me. Or I want her daughter. Or both. She won't get away with it. I'll be careful._

"I've asked Brad to accompany. Ah, here he is."

For the next half hour, Rachel sang Funny Girl, first through, then in sections with Will making suggestions regarding phrasing, breath control, and tempi, trying to make her sound more like the ingenue that Fanny Brice was while preserving the tonal beauty of the legato line. When she sang it complete at the end, they all agreed her performance had markedly improved. Brad left, and Rachel addressed Will.

"You were wonderful. You helped me so much. Now I'm just sorry I didn't come to you before when I was working on songs outside glee. Maybe we can do this again sometime. Would that be okay?"

"Of course. I'm glad I could help, Rachel. Remember me when you accept your first _Grammy_."

Rachel laughed, touched for an instant the back of his hand that was resting on the piano, said, "That was sweet. Your support means everything to me. Thanks again, Mr. Schuester," and left.

_She's hugged me, but never touched me in any other way before. What's she up to? Why did it give me a chill?_

She showed up again with Brad on Tuesday, to work on _Maybe This Time_. Will was glad to see her. He had her slow the tempo considerably, lost the cynical, world-weary, nasal tone that April had brought to it, and had Rachel beaming with satisfaction at the great improvement in her interpretation. Her touch of his hand doubled to two seconds, his chill doubled to twenty.

Wednesday, Rachel, but no Brad. "Hello, Mr. Schuester. Would you have time to work with me for a bit on the harmonies of _Hello?_ You're the only one I know who can keep up with me on it. I want to improve my duet skills. I need to learn to listen to my partner and adjust on the spot."

_Yeah, G-spot. Does she think I'm that naïve? She broke up with Finn. How horny is she? Do I still have that condom in my wallet? Am I insane? I need a chaperone, stat! Who can I get? Emma? No. That could end up in a threesome or murder. Sue? She'll encourage Rachel and take videos. Figgins? He'll shut down glee. Any of the glee kids? Every single one of them will want in on the action to get me or Rachel or both. Shit! I'm screwed._

"Okay, Rachel. It'll be harder without the piano, but that will sharpen our ears. _Acafellas_ certainly did that for me. Why don't you sit over there and I'll stay here at the piano and play a chord from time to time."

Rachel's indulgent smile said, "Oh Will, are you afraid of me? I won't hurt you." She came up to the piano bench, said, "Please scoot over, Mr. Schuester. I only have one copy of the music this time. We'll have to share."

_Perfume. Shampoo. Rachel. Bare elbows must not bump. No contact of any kind. Above all, don't kiss her. Not anywhere. Breathe normally._

"That was great, Mr. Schuester. Better than with Jesse, better than _Endless Love_, if you'll forgive me mentioning what was once a sore subject for both of us that I hope we've gotten past. Thanks so much again." She swiveled 180º on the bench, rose by putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing off.

_Jesus. That chill went down my spine through my balls to my toes._

On the way home, Will stopped by _The Gap _and bought a shirt, for no particular reason. He wore it the next day. Rachel didn't show up in the choir room after school.

_Fuck_.


	2. Will Power

_This is silly. She never said she'd come. There's no reason to expect her **every** day. She might not be working on something new more than once a week, once a month. She has so much to do for glee, takes all AP classes. She's busy. Why do I care she didn't show? That's the question, isn't it? _

_Three days in a row, good work, real progress. Even Brad thought so. I was getting used to it, really enjoying it, looking forward to it. Looking forward to working with her. Or just looking forward to talking with her? Just talking with her? Is that all it takes? Hmmm. Has that always been the case? NO! There, that proves it. I'm not obsessed. I'm not infatuated. She was plain annoying at the beginning. A real pain. Then there were all those months when the most important women in my life were Emma, Terri and the baby. Right. The baby. But even then, seeing her in the hall, seeing her come into the choir room, she could light me up. Rare students do that to teachers. And Rachel's rare, god knows. No harm in it. Nothing sexual in it. No love in it. Nothing sexual or loving about hoping to talk to Rachel Berry every fucking day. Right. _

_I have her cell. I could text her, ask if she's planning to stop by. No, don't! I'll seem too anxious, too needy, obsessed, even. I'm not obsessed. I'm not infatuated. And what if I'm being played? Is she capable of that? Fuck, yes. She shows up three days in a row, sets up expectations, pulls back, makes me obsess like I'm doing right now, weakens me psychologically, smells fear, goes in for the kill. And those touches, getting longer by the day. First one second, then two, finally three. At least it was static each time. If she moves her hand, or even just a finger or thumb along my bare skin I'll get an erection, for sure. Then what? _

_ What's the etiquette here? What's the appropriate thing for a teacher to do if they're not really trying to seduce a student or don't want to appear to be trying to seduce a student? What if they **are** trying and want to succeed – fuck the consequences and definitely fuck the student? What if the student is actually trying to seduce them and they want her to succeed but don't want it to appear that they do? Where can I find out about these things ? Is there a "Seducing Underage Students for Idiots?" "Handling Student Crushes for Idiots?" "Inducing Student Crushes in Underage Students for Idiots?" "Fucking Underage Students Without Getting Caught for Idiots?" Are there teacher discussion websites for these topics? This sort of thing has been going on forever. Somebody out there has the answers. Socrates probably fucked Plato. In the ass. Is it in "The Republic?" Between the lines? _

_What's up with Rachel these days? She acts and talks a lot differently from last semester. Much more self-assured and mature. She can't possibly be a virgin. She was with Finn since Regionals and most of the summer. They were smiling all the time, as though they shared a secret. I've seen that look. Terri and I had it when we were screwing like rabbits. They **had** to be doing it. His hand was halfway up the __main highway to her pussy in public__, for god's sake. Last fall she spent a few weeks with Puck. What girl does that without getting laid? Well, okay, Rachel could get away with that, if anyone could. Boys get infatuated with her. I'm NOT a boy. I'm NOT infatuated. She seems to control boys, like a lion tamer in a circus. They snarl, they show their teeth, then she cracks the whip and they shut the fuck up. _

_What is it about Rachel? Talent? The best since April. Doesn't have the range, but her sound is angelic. Brains? Frightening. But it's the fire. Like there's a small nuclear reactor in there, powering everything. The work rate, the focus, the ambition, the ego, the voice, the smile, the tears, the… Finn was smiling all the time, but I can't ask **him**. What would it be like with all that energy and emotion poured into a simple act of love? How does she come? She'd probably look like she did the end of "Faithfully" but what sound does she make? A scream or a note? What about when she moans or whimpers? What would it be like to hold that satin silk skin against me, to see and touch her naked curves in the early morning light? Jesus, I'm losing it. Doesn't the District provide free counseling? But can I really count on it being kept confidential in a District run by the likes of Bryan Ryan and Figgins? "Yes, doctor, I'm having impure thoughts about one of my underage students. __Am I in love? __ Is there a cure? Can you help me?" Do I want to be cured? That's the question, isn't it?_


	3. The Invitation

At lunch on Friday, Rachel Berry appeared at the door of Will's office.

"Hello, Mr. Schuester."

_Okay, be glad to see her, be mildly surprised. Slight smile, no teeth. Don't be elated. Don't be overjoyed. No hugs, no kisses. Never kiss her. The District frowns on male teachers kissing underage female students on the mouth or neck. No mouth, no neck, no tongue. Don't mention the fact she didn't show up yesterday.  
_

"Hi, Rachel, what's up."_  
_

"I've come to extend to you a very special invitation."

_What's this? Her dads are gone for the weekend, come over, hang out by the pool, discuss musical arrangements, put sun lotion on her she doesn't like tan lines I won't need a bathing suit? She's driving up to Cleveland to see a concert, she's going alone, she's staying overnight, she'll be so, so lonely in the pre-paid 4-star hotel's king-size bed? She and Finn were smiling because of the oral sex but he never learned to last and now she needs a real man to make her a real woman? Stay calm. If it's any of these things, whatever you decide, don't stand up. Could **I** last with Rachel Berry?  
_

"Oh?"

"Yes, my dads are having a dinner party tonight for some special guests I think you'll enjoy meeting. I know it's at the last minute, but when they heard me sing those songs we worked on they realized what a wonderful job you did with me and wanted to thank you in person. It's at 6, dress is casual. Please, please say you'll come. I'd love for you to be there. I'm sure you'll have a fabulous time. I'd be so disappointed if you couldn't make it."

"Yes, of course, I'd be honored, Rachel. I certainly wouldn't want to disappoint you."

"That's great. And sweet. There's one little thing though. It's a very informal dinner and everyone there will be on a first-name basis. I even call my dads by their first names. So to make you feel comfortable I have to beg your permission to introduce and address you as 'Will.' I promise never do that outside my house."

"No problem. I understand, Miss Berry."

"You're funny Wi…, sorry, Mr. Schuester. See you around 6, then. Bye."

_So **that's** it! It was a classic misdirection ploy all along. It's not Rachel who's after me, it's her gay dads and their gay guests. Rachel was just recruiting fresh meat for them. I can't say I'm that surprised. I'm young, good-looking, in great shape. Gays check me out all the time, especially in the produce sections of supermarkets. Gay couples eye me while inspecting the cucumbers. Will there be an orgy? Is there a BDSM parlor in their basement? Will Rachel act as dungeon mistress? Is Rachel a dominatrix? Oh, yeah, I can believe that. Okay, but after I drink their single malt Scotch and French wine and eat their catered food I'm outta there. Sayonara. Ciao. Glad I had my leather sports coat cleaned over the summer._

_I'm getting carried away here. That girl can make you crazy. I met her dads at Regionals. They're nice guys. No orgy. No dungeon. But they'd better be home. And Rachel had better be fully dressed when she answers the door. Or I'm outta there?  
_


	4. Guest of Honor

Will rang the bell at the Berry residence at 6 pm, the exact time of the invitation, as is considered polite in northwestern Ohio. The door was opened by a stunning young woman wearing a little black number and high heels, smiling up at the very man she most hoped to see.

_My god! Okay, remember. Do NOT touch her. **Any** touch would be or would soon become inappropriate. Do NOT kiss her, not anywhere, not even once, no matter what. It could easily get out of hand.  
_

Had he been capable of speech, Will might have said something like, "You look gorgeous" or "You're beautiful" or "You're so lovely, Rachel." His mouth-agaped, wide-eyed stare said it all, however, and Rachel, having spent two hours getting dressed and knowing fucking well how fine she looked, couldn't wait who knows how long for Will's left hemisphere to kick back in._  
_

"I'm so glad you came, Will, you look especially handsome tonight. And your jacket is gorgeous. Mmmm, the leather is so soft," touching his forearm then kissing his cheek and taking his hand to lead him into…

_A bedroom? The basement dungeon? Heaven? Hell?  
_

the living room.

"Everyone, allow me to introduce our guest of honor, Mr. William Schuester."

Eight other people turned to smile at him and applauded.

_Have I passed through a looking glass, fallen through a rabbit hole?  
_

"This is the wonderful man who is single-handedly reviving the great tradition of choral music at McKinley High. We can all learn a lot from him, as I already have and for which I'll be eternally grateful." Rachel Berry was in her element, an eagle soaring in an updraft, carrying a beautiful little choir director in her talons.

Will mustered a sheepish grin.

_What's going on here? Who **am** I? Who **is** she?  
_

After her dads came up to shake his hand, thank him for everything he had done for their darling daughter, the school, and the community, Rachel introduced him to the other guests, steering him about via light touches on his elbow, like an expert equestrian controlling her stallion in dressage. There were the Dean of Music at Ohio State University at Lima and his wife, a Music professor who directed musical theater productions at the University and his "friend" [_too young,_ g_raduate student no doubt, probably had to put out to get the leading role, those bastards get away with all sorts of shit at the U_], and a member of the State Board of Education and his "lifetime partner." It seemed as though they had all come for the specific purpose of meeting **him**.

As the catering staff circulated with canapés and wine, Will found himself, with Rachel constantly at his side, fielding questions about his methods, song choices, future plans, and ideas for establishing show choir in other schools. Rachel was fully engaged in the conversations, and Will saw that her opinions were treated with great respect. She wasn't an adolescent here, she was far more like the hostess of a 19th century Parisian salon, mediating and driving the discussion, making sure always to play to Will's strengths and subtly praise him at every opportunity.

When dinner was announced, the guests drifted into the large dining room. Getting a moment alone with Rachel, Will asked, "Why did you do this for me?"

"You earned it. You deserve it. Especially after this week."

"Is that all?"

"No, it's not **all**. But it **is** all for this dinner. Please accept the simple truth and realize how important you are." With that, she touched, almost caressed, his arm and guided him to the table, at the opposite end from one of her dads, as befitting a guest of honor. Rachel sat down next to him.


	5. Hello, Good Night

The conversation around the dinner table flowed like the wine. Rachel not only partook, but was not shy about giving personal tasting notes and awarding Rachel-points on a scale of 100. The diners were a well-traveled bunch, usually on taxpayer money, and they regaled each other with accounts of shows seen in Europe or New York, discussing actors and singers, praising and damning. Will had heard most of the related original cast CDs, and provided insightful commentary. Rachel described her own attempts at some of the songs, successful and not, and gave hilarious impromptu impressions of some of the worst recorded performances.

_I could fall in love with her. Maybe I already have. Maybe I ought to try to kiss her someday. What if she says no? What if says yes? Either answer frightens me. Face it Schuester, you're a coward._

When the dishes of the main course were cleared away, the dad opposite Will clinked his crystal wine glass with a spoon several times to get everyone's attention, rose and announced, "Dear guests and the rest of you rabble, I wish to propose a toast to our guest of honor, Will Schuester. Early last fall, when our dear Rachel would come home complaining that some Mr. Schue was out to destroy her career, knowing our dear Rachel as we do, we sympathized but secretly suspected that Mr. Schue might be on to something. Now Rachel assures us that this selfsame Mr. Schue is the greatest teacher she has ever had, with the notable and obvious exceptions of her doting dads. Let this be a lesson for educators everywhere. Will, your talent, knowledge, enthusiasm, and perseverance have brought joy to our Rachel and to all the other members of New Directions and will do so for generations to come. For that, we and all of Lima are in your debt. Raise your glasses everyone, to Mr. Schue."

"Mr. Schue." They all drank whatever was left in their wine glasses and sang a rousing chorus of _For_ _He's a Jolly Good Fellow_. Will nearly cried. Rachel beamed warm and bright as the noonday sun.

When dinner was over, they all went back into the living room, had some port (but no cigars), after which the Dean of Music, following a short chat with Rachel, went to the grand piano and said, "We have a special treat tonight. Rachel is going to sing for us. Rachel."

"On Monday, I approached Will to help me with _Funny Girl_. I'm first going to sing it as I had before, then as Will taught me. You be the judge."

Rachel began with an excellent imitation of Shelby, dark-voiced and belting the climaxes. Powerful stuff. Then she began again, Will's way, with light, sweet-toned, floating sound, as an ingenue would sing it. The reaction was what Rachel knew it would be, especially since she had practiced the shit out of the song since Monday. She repeated her demonstration of Will's vocal coaching genius and interpretive taste with _Maybe This Time, _with the same predictable result. She then went up to Will, and whispered, "Would you do _Hello_ with me? You don't have to if you don't feel like it."

When he agreed, she announced to the assembly, "You've all heard of the great things Will has done in reviving show choir at McKinley and heard for yourselves his ability to improve such a hopeless singing wretch as I, but now you're going to hear the best kept musical secret in Lima. You're going to hear Will Schuester sing. Lionel Richie's _Hello_ as a duet. Dean, please."

Will began the solo intro verse, and when Rachel's soprano joined his lyric tenor at "I can see it in your eyes," she took his hand and held it until the final pedaled arpeggiated chord died out, looking into his eyes with a smile the entire time and hugging him at the end.

_What the fuck just happened. Am I engaged? Am I married? Do I step on a covered wine glass now? Did I at least get laid?_

The guests sat stunned, not only because of the incredible harmonies and the surprising beauty of Will's voice, but because they were unsure as to whether they had just witnessed a brilliant exhibition of music theater or had intruded on a real couple's declaration of mutual love. When, as a group, they finally came to the tacit consensus that it didn't matter, they all gave the pair a heartfelt standing ovation.

As the guests milled about, Rachel stood apart and allowed Will to enjoy his triumph as a solo act. On a few occasions she saw the person with whom he had been engaged in conversation take out a BlackBerry and key in something that Will was telling them. As each person took their leave from the party, they would approach Will, shake his hand and offer their congratulations. Her dads did the same before retiring to the second floor. Then a quiet settled in and, with the living room illuminated by a single floor lamp, Will sat down beside Rachel on the couch.

"Only real sluts give out their number as often I saw you do tonight. Emma had you pegged. Did you at least get the Prof's babe's number? I saw her checking you out and you're more her age."

"I did better than that. I'm going to have a shot at an entire music department's worth of coeds and female faculty. I've been invited to give a lecture on show choir to a music education class at OSU-Lima and to sit in on a rehearsal of _Sweeney Todd_ at the U to see if I can help a few of the singers. I'm also going to Columbus to give a presentation before the Ed Board on choral music in secondary schools. I've never been so psyched. I owe it all to you, Rachel."

"If you owe anything to anyone, it's to Emma for getting you to see yourself and stay at McKinley. All I did was provide some publicity to an extraordinary man."

"Thank you for that. It means a lot to me, coming from you. And thanks for the publicity. As my agent, you'll get 10%. Well, it's very late, I'd better go."

"Let me walk you to your car."

As soon as they went out the front door, Will saw Rachel shiver slightly in the cool autumn night air, so he took off his jacket and put it around her shoulders. For some reason, without thinking, he took her hand, a gesture she warmly accepted.

At his car, he turned and stood with his back against the door. They looked at each other in silence for a bit, until Will decided to wade out into what he knew were very dangerous waters with undercurrents that could drown him.

"Before dinner, when I asked you why you had arranged all this, you said it was solely because I had earned it, but said it wasn't 'all,' which I thought meant there was something else on your mind about me."

"I suppose one could infer that," she said with a smile that quickly vanished. She gazed softly at him, but with no trace of humor.

He leaned toward her and kissed her on the cheek. Her expression didn't change.

He held his hand to her cheek and kissed her mouth softly and withdrew. Her lips had parted slightly at the touch of his, but her expression afterward remained the same.

He took her face in his hands and kissed her mouth in earnest. She opened to him, threw her arms around his neck, pressed her soft lips hard against him, and a year of suppressed passion erupted between them. When she felt the strength in him grow hard, she first held his hand to her breast then pushed it down across her belly to the damp between her legs. She wanted him to know her heat, to know she wanted him for her lover. They ended up hugging tightly, her head tucked against his chest, he caressing her hair and back.

"Now you know what else was on my mind, Will. I was beginning to think you'd **never** kiss me."

"I'm a coward. I wanted you so much but didn't have the guts. It took me three tries tonight before I found the courage. I really didn't know if you could stand kissing an old geezer."

"Silly, wonderful man."

"You don't seem concerned about who's watching."

"Oh, you mean my dads? After meeting you tonight, they're probably on-line setting up a registry for us with Williams-Sonoma."

"You told them how you felt about me?"

"I didn't have to. You may actually be the last person in Lima to figure it out."

Will laughed and rained dozens of kisses on her upturned face.

"Look, you're a good and important man Will, and I won't put you in danger, as much as I want to sleep with you, travel with you, be with you, as in love with you as I may be. So tell me, what are we going to do, dearest Will, what are we going to do?"

_Fuck if I know, dearest, sweetest Rachel, fuck if I know._


	6. Sunday Morning

The bedroom was suffused with the gray light of a cloudy Sunday morning. Will slipped out of sleep, gradually awakening to the pleasure of the loveliness beside him. Rachel slept on her stomach, her hair flowing to the pillow, taking short easy breaths. Will very carefully, so as not to disturb her, raised the blanket and peeked underneath to enjoy the slopes and curves of her naked body. The passion of sex doesn't allow for such quiet visual contemplation, and he was really seeing her in that way for the very first time. Her ass was as erotic as he'd always imagined it from the titillation of her mini-skirts and tight jeans, and it took a great deal of self-control for him not to reach down between her parted thighs to dip into the early morning dew of her cunt.

_What am I doing in love with a 17-year old girl? **Am** I in love? What does it mean? What she did for me at the dinner party, now **that** was love. Just "publicity," my ass. Who knows how long it took her to work **that** whole thing out. What would **I** do for her? Would I risk my career to have her? I already have, I guess, if three male 30-something orgasms in one night still count for anything in a court of law. She said she'd give me up rather than risk my career. Oh yeah, so why are you here fucking me to death, eh Rachel? Ah ha, got you there, didn't I? Shit, it's easier to win arguments with her when she's asleep. Maybe that's why I **think** I'm in love with her. Maybe that's why I **am** in love with her.  
_

_What is she to me? She's been my student, my colleague, my adversary, my friend, my benefactor. And now she's my lover and like everything else, she does it incredibly well, with technique at the service of real passion. Like her singing. **Everybody** fucks with passion? Oh yeah? Ask around. Sleep with Terri for 15 years. Rachel Berry don't take no stinkin' prisoners in the sack. Seventeen years old. Good heavens. She's made me a better singer, she's made me a better teacher, and she's making me a better lover. I don't know anyone I'd rather spend time with. If we find a way to be together, the longer we do, the more terrible the pain when she has to leave me. Hell, it would hurt bad if she left today. So there it is, risking my career so I can suffer at the end. All for some quality time with Rachel Berry. What the fuck, it's probably worth it. I'll write her unauthorized biography. I'll be interviewed about her on TV. I'll suffer and die. But hey, I'll have been with Rachel Berry. How many men will be able to say that?_

"Good morning, darling. Sleep well?" shook him out of his reverie.

"Yes, sweetie. And I guess you did too. I'd been watching you before you woke up."

"What did you see?"

"A very beautiful young woman the likes of whom I'd never even imagined before I met her."

"Wow, great answer for so early in the morning! You're pretty sharp, Will. Did you rehearse that line just for li'l ol' me, or have you used it on tons of other women who woke up next to you after a night of having their brains thoroughly fucked out?"

"You may not believe this, but you're only the second woman I've ever slept with."

"Poor, poor Will. And poor, poor all those women who coulda or woulda or mighta had their lovely little pussies fucked to smithereens if only Will Schuester and his not-so-little willy had had the chance to gad about. In terms of numbers of partners, though, I may be one up on you if you're not lying."

"So that's where all those tricks you used last night came from."

"No, silly, they came from my two years' apprenticeship in an underage Bangkok brothel."

"Be careful what you tell me. I might believe almost anything about you after the last few nights. Getting back to the numbers, Finn is one, so who is two?"

"A real lady doesn't fuck and tell her new lover about his predecessors until he has poured a lot more of his sweet cream into her. You're going to have to wait for that info. And I'm not giving it up until you tell me how I rate compared to Terri."

"You little 3-man slut. The only reason you're asking is that you know the answer and want to be flattered. Okay, so you're a tad more intense, imaginative, inventive, knowledgeable, intelligent, and funny than Terri. But that's just Terri. I'll bet if I looked around I could find 5 or 6 girls as hot as you in Ohio."

"Hey, did you gulp another fistful of those little blue pills before I woke up?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's either that or the thing throbbing against me is just innocent morning wood that means no harm to a girl whose pussy is noticeably more lubricated than it was two minutes ago. Which is it, buster?"

"You're lying, you little vixen. You're trying to kill me."

"Check it out, Will. Pleeeeease check it out. Yes, that's it. Ohhhhhhh. See?"

"I do apologize for doubting you, Ms Berry. How can I make it up to you?"

"As a total self-centered narcissist, I want to taste myself by French kissing you."

"Yes, I'd like that. First, let me spread your legs for you. There, wider, yes, that's good. Oh, yes. Yes. Where's that tiny little nub hiding? Ah, there it is. Mmmmmm. Sweet. I love the smell of cunt in the morning."


	7. Talk Clean to Me

"Ohhh, god, that was so nice. How do you do that, Will, how do you make it so easy for me?"

"I have no idea. Anyway, what do **you** know? You've only had Finn plus one, probably Figgins. You're no expert."

"Figgins! You're a bad, bad, evil man, Will Schuester. An evil, sweet, lovely man. And Figgins was great, by the way. But you're forgetting that I've been with a sensational lover for many years who understood my every need. Me. So if I say you make it easy for me, I know what I'm talking about."

"It's not me, it's us. An individual is only a great lover when he's alone pulling his own chain. Great sex takes a couple. I did the same things with Terri, but not with the same response. It wasn't Terri's fault. One day I hope she'll find a lover who's great for her. When she does she'll think I was lousy, just as I could think she was after being with you. We resonate, you and I. You send out a signal, I vibrate like a tuning fork. We're in harmony, like in _Hello_, like in _Endless Love_."

"Maybe it's just the thrill of the taboo, student-teacher, 17-31?"

"I wouldn't and couldn't be with you if that's how I thought of you. It's only when I saw you as mature, as an equal, as more a colleague than a student, that it became psychologically possible for me. Maybe it's easy for you are because of the thrill of the taboo for **you**. How about that!"

"Maybe, I can't rule it out. But I think the thrill is just **you**. Face it, Will. You **are** gorgeous. You **are** talented. You **are** a wonderful person. And you know what my body needs and when it needs it. For example, right now, Will, right now, look at my body, look real close. See anything that might need fixing, perhaps a little tweak here or there, a tune-up, a lube job, a fill-up?

"Yes, Rachel, I believe I see the problem. Your rosebuds are too pale and appear a little deflated, and there's nothing big and hard in your fuel tank. Allow me to take care of that for you."

"Ohhh, yesss, Will, your diagnosis is right onnn, and right innn. And no holding back. Ummm, you've got two swellings of viscous fluid down here. I want every last drop."

"You're going to get everything I've got, baby."

"Ummm. Stop! Don't move. Right there. Don't move. Don't…ohhh…show off!…yes, I felt that…you're big enough without…ohhh…two can play that game…"

"Ohhh, baby."

"You're moving. I said don't move!"

"Just a bit. Couldn't help it. Just a teeny little bit. Very slow. A teeny bit deeper. Now a teeny bit back. See how nice that is."

"Yesss, it **is** nice, darling. You've changed my mind. Even deeper this time...yes, just like that…now all of it.. again…again…"

…

…

"Felt it all, every spasm, every blast inside me. Did I set **you** off, or did you do **me**?"

"Don't know. Couldn't tell. Don't care. Love you. Love you so much."

"When it's so good, aren't you afraid it's just the sex, not real love?"

"We loved each other first. The sexual compatibility merely strengthened it. It's evolutionary biology. It's Darwin. It's the way it's supposed to be."

"I love older men who've slept with all of two women, both of them crazy. They're so wise."

"Just for that, in three days, after I've recovered, I'm going to force you to have sex with me again."

"I'll have handcuffed you to the bedposts and raped you by then. And by the way, in case it takes you as long to figure out as it did to kiss me, I do love you, Will Schuester."

"Handcuffs, eh?"


End file.
